


Myka and H.G. Are Cannon

by Typey



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typey/pseuds/Typey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An artifact that gives the only acceptable use of that spelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myka and H.G. Are Cannon

**Author's Note:**

> Bizarre things happen in Race's replies, and then I get a comic from [Foxfire](http://typeytypeytypey.tumblr.com/post/55429515536/my-commission-from-foxfire-to-go-along-with).

Artie muttered to himself as he traipsed down aisle after aisle looking for his wayward team of miscreants. He’d call it “grumbling,” but he didn’t want to give Claudia the satisfaction. If he ever found her, that is.

“Just when I need my _highly trained_ federal agents and their _pet mascot_ to be where I need them for some…” He stopped abruptly at the sight of spilled dirt and an overturned brass urn. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he assessed what he could see — obviously there had been an incident with an artifact, and obviously his team was…

**CRASH**

somewhere over _there_.

**BZZZZZZZZZ**

And there was a plane in the Warehouse. Great.

Artie looked up in time to see a WWII fighter doing barrel rolls above him. And the crash he’d heard was apparently the Bradley fighting vehicle rolling over God knows what he could see heading for the Pete Cave.

He had no idea where any of his agents were, but he chose to neutralize the artifact first. Gloves on, he backtracked for a goo-sprayer; returning to the mess on the floor, Artie opted to spray first, collect mud later.

A solid minute of spraying down everything in sight convinced Artie he could safely start to put back the mess into what he had figured out was Albert of Antwerp’s Urn From Yser.

As he climbed up the ladder to replace the now-neutralized urn, Pete stumbled toward him, rolling his shoulders and wincing. Claudia arrived from the other direction, holding her head and repeating the word “dizzy” over and over.

“What happened, Artie? Why do I feel like I just got run over by a tank.”

Artie stepped off the ladder, peered over his glasses at Pete and scolded, “because _someone_ ” — he looked pointedly at Claudia — “wasn’t careful enough with an artifact.”  
Claudia protested as loudly as her aching head would allow. “Hey, Grumps. Wasn’t me. I was just standing there when H.G. startled Myka by accident and she dropped that…whatever it is.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” H.G. and Myka, each walking rather slowly and stealing not-so-sly looks at each another, had come around the corner just in time to hear Claudia point out that Myka had been handling the artifact before they’d been whammied. “I didn’t realize that Myka hadn’t known I was standing so close. I do apologize if I’ve caused all…this.”

Her wave took in Pete’s obvious soreness, Claudia’s lingering disorientation, and her own and Myka’s stiffness and disinclination to look directly at each other.

“Yes, well. Feel special, you four. Only one other person has been in contact with this artifact since it was created at Yser.”

“Yser? In Belgium” Helena knew the location, but didn’t know it had been the site of a famous battle.

“Yes. The Belgian stand in 1914 against invading German forces to protect the Channel and keep from having their country completely overrun during the First World War. Once Antwerp had fallen, most of the Belgian forces scattered, but the remaining infantry kept up a two-month stand at the Yser. And one soldier had been at both the Siege of Antwerp and the Battle of the Yser. He and his fellow soldiers were so committed to holding their position that the mud he collected as a memento had swallowed up that personification of fighting spirit. The artifact ‘read’ each of you and turned you into the weapon that most matched your personality.”

“Sooooo, Mr. I-know-more-about-everything-than-you-do, what did we all become?”

“Well, _you_ ,” he pointed sharply at the youngest member of the group, “were a World War II fighter plane testing your maneuverability up in the catwalks.” He scowled when she grinned and tried to high-five Pete, who still looked a quite worse-for-wear.

“And, unsurprisingly, given his bull-in-a-china-shop nature, Pete ended up a _tank_. And made a beeline for his cave.” Claudia laughed until Pete managed to nudge her with his shoulder.

“What about Myka and H.G.? Did you see them?” Pete snuck a glance at the two women, who sported matching rigid postures as the effects of the artifact slowly wore off but remained close together, as Artie shook his head.

Helena looked into Myka’s eyes briefly before addressing the rest of the group.

“I seem to think while we were behind that shelf, she and I became cannon.”


End file.
